


Nearing Time

by ancalime8301



Series: Legacy [23]
Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies)
Genre: Childbirth, Gen, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-06-24
Updated: 2003-06-24
Packaged: 2018-06-08 07:09:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6844309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ancalime8301/pseuds/ancalime8301
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frodo's child arrives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nearing Time

Frodo shifted uncomfortably then gasped as a sharp pain stabbed his back. Ever so carefully he shifted back to his former position and sighed as the pain dissipated. He was tired of lying the same way all day and all night, but there was no position that was entirely comfortable, not in his present condition. Right now he lay on his side, a pillow underneath his laden abdomen, supporting some of its weight to lessen the strain on his back. Wedged against his spine were more pillows, keeping the hot water bottle on his lower back that ached so fiercely. There were times he was still amazed by the strange thing his body had become, even after so many months and nearing the end of the most miraculous event of his life. It did not matter how or why it had come to be; it just *was* and there was no denying it.

Though he had to admit he sympathized with females far more now than he had previously. Now he understood why his aunts were so difficult to be around when they were with child. His own mood swings took even him by surprise, and baffled everyone else, so they never knew quite how to behave around him, as his temper was often volatile. In fact, that was the reason he was alone in the bedroom; in a fit of annoyance, he'd ordered everyone out so he could have some peace and quiet. They'd obeyed only reluctantly, unwilling to enrage him further for fear of the effects.

So now he was alone, and he began to realize that he needed to use the chamber pot. Again. At times it seemed all he existed to do was eat, sleep, and urinate, and his body was proving it once more. He sighed as he reached for the readily available pot, placed conveniently within his reach so he could deal with such problems on his own. He insisted on it. He was a proud hobbit and a stubborn hobbit and, while allowing the others to help care for certain needs, he demanded that this remain in his control.

The only problem was, he was beginning to have trouble reaching around himself to position things correctly so it went in the pot and not on the sheets. He grimaced a bit as he tried to figure out if there was a different way he could do this; coming up empty, he steeled himself for what he had to do. With some effort, he rolled partially onto his back and hurriedly shoved the pot into place, the weight of the child now pressing on his bladder making the slight urge absolutely imperative.

Frodo took care of his business, most satisfied with himself for once again proving capable in caring for the matter. He gingerly shoved the sloshing pot onto the table just within arms’ reach; the others would be returning soon, and they would take care of the disposal. They'd probably also make sure he rolled over to his other side, to keep him from getting too stiff and to prevent bedsores. He settled back into his nest of pillows and light blankets, preparing to indulge in a short nap. Even the smallest exertions made him so tired . . .

Just as he was beginning to drift off to sleep, he felt a twinge run across the rounded expanse of his stomach, strengthening until he gasped in pain and his eyes flew open. What was *that*?!

 

When the pain dissipated as quickly as it had flared, Frodo relaxed and closed his eyes again, dismissing it as just a cramp or the baby kicking in a bad spot. It had been kicking more often lately, doubtless as eager to escape its prison as he was to finally see the small person he bore. As he drifted off to sleep the ever-present question was again on his mind: boy or girl? He knew Lord Elrond could have told him the gender long ago, but he preferred that it be a surprise. As long as the babe was healthy, he was content.

 

Frodo awoke from his nap refreshed... and ravenous. He might've had another of those pains while he slept, but the memory was vague, so he dismissed it as just a dream and devoted his attention to another sort of pang: hunger. He opened his eyes in time to watch Sam place a heavily loaded food tray on the table where the chamber pot had been. Seeing Frodo awake, Sam teased, "You always wake up just in time for meals, don't you Mr. Frodo."

Frodo smiled broadly and countered, "It's only natural for a hobbit." He carefully propped himself up on one elbow and surveyed the tray, his eyes widening. "Sam, I may be eating for two, but this is a meal for four, at least!"

Sam gestured helplessly. "Strider and Lord Elrond loaded it up. I just brought it in. Just eat what you can, I'd warrant." He sobered and asked, "How are you doing?"

Frodo reached out and squeezed his hand reassuringly. "I am well, Sam. Don't worry, it will be fine." He let go and said briskly, "Now, are you going to let a hungry hobbit eat or did you come just to torment me with the smell?"

 

Not long after he ate the pain came repeatedly, growing stronger and more insistent, coming closer together until Frodo realized what it was. "Sam, would you get Aragorn?" he asked neutrally, trying to keep the strain out of his voice as another contraction took hold. But Sam knew him too well to be fooled and dashed out the door. Once Sam left, Frodo curled around himself and bit back a cry as the pain knifed through his midsection again.

Sam finally found Aragorn in the company of Lord Elrond and Lady Arwen in Elrond's study. Their conversation ceased abruptly when Sam skidded to a halt and stood panting in the doorway. Aragorn reacted first. "Breathe, Sam," he ordered as he pulled the gardener further into the room and closed the door before kneeling to face him. "Is it...?"

He nodded in confirmation, drawing a deep breath to say, "I think it's time. Frodo asked me to fetch you."

Aragorn and Elrond shared a knowing look; they had just been discussing that the child could arrive any day. Aragorn turned back to Sam and answered, "All right. We'll be there shortly." Almost as an afterthought he added, "Don't worry. He'll be fine."

When Elrond and Aragorn arrived in Frodo's room a few minutes behind Sam, Frodo was sitting up against some pillows and calmly sipping some tea. He saw them enter and said, "I hope you didn't hurry. It's not as urgent as I'm sure Sam made it sound."

Elrond moved smoothly to the side of the bed and began checking him over and grilled him as he did so. "You are having pains?"

"Yes."

"When did they begin?"

"Um... about two hours ago, I guess."

"How far apart are they now?"

"Ten minutes or so."

Elrond hemmed thoughtfully, prodding and palpitating Frodo's overly large belly to judge the baby's position. "Frodo, knees bent and apart a bit, please," he requested as he continued his examination a bit lower. When he finished, Elrond straightened and cleared his throat, drawing Frodo's attention from his conversation with Sam and Aragorn about Sam's upcoming wedding. "It appears you are correct-"

"A moment please, Lord Elrond," Frodo gasped as another spasm began. He clenched his eyes shut and squeezed Sam's hand tightly as he tried to fight the pain, succeeding only in breaking into a cold sweat. Elrond placed a large hand on Frodo's stomach to feel the tightening, then checked below.

"Estel, a towel," he requested in Elvish, not wanting to worry Sam; some bleeding was, after all, to be expected.

The latest contraction was soon over and once Frodo had caught his breath, he said, "Sorry to interrupt. What were you about to say?"

Elrond inclined his head slightly and replied, "No apology necessary. I was merely about to confirm that you are indeed experiencing the birth pains. While the baby is lying in an unusual position-" a half-smile flitted across his face "-the circumstances themselves are rather unusual, so I see no reason for concern. Though it may be some time yet until we know which way it can be delivered, as we've already discussed."

Frodo nodded. "Yes, I suspected as much."

 

All told, it was another four hours before it became apparent the babe would not be able to come out on its own. The contractions continued to come closer together and grow stronger, quickly wearing Frodo out, so he dozed in the short time between them. Sam and Aragorn each held one of his hands and encouraged him through the pain, while Elrond monitored both his condition and the baby's.

As the midnight hour drew near, Elrond pulled Aragorn aside. "He has not widened any in the past hour, and both he and the babe are beginning to weaken." His low voice was easily drowned out by Frodo's pained cries and ragged breathing. "We shall have to cut."

Aragorn cast an anxious glance at the labouring halfling on the bed before replying, "Does he know the dangers? It is not a risk-free procedure."

"We have discussed much in past months," Elrond affirmed.

Aragorn sighed heavily. "I defer to your judgement in this matter." The Lord of Imladris and the King of Gondor, two of the greatest healers in Middle-Earth, approached the bed with apprehension. Sam remained by Frodo's side, wiping his master's face of the sweat of his toil as Frodo lay quietly, his eyes closed. His roomy nightshirt was soaked through in places and his stomach was starkly outlined by the damp fabric.

Standing next to Sam, Aragorn brushed the few stray curls back off Frodo's forehead to lie amongst their sweat-damp brethren, then gently caressed the side of the hobbit's face as he softly called, "Frodo? Look at me, little one."

"I'm not little," he protested with a small smile as he slowly blinked open weary blue eyes. He cast his glance from Aragorn to Elrond and back again, noting their worried expressions, and said, "Wait. Don't tell me. This isn't working, so you have to do the other."

Both nodded, and Sam gave him a horrified look but was kept from speaking by Frodo's upraised hand. "What would you have me do, Sam? Lie here like this until either the baby or I dies from the strain? No, I have not cooperated this long to have it come to naught."

"Remember I cannot give you anything for the pain for the sake of the babe. I can only numb the area where we'll be working," Elrond reminded him.

Frodo swallowed heavily and replied, "Do what you must, Lord Elrond."

All was soon put in place for the forced delivery of the child, though the time seemed interminable to Frodo, who continued to suffer contractions every few minutes. Arwen brought in an ample supply of towels, which she helped Aragorn spread underneath and around Frodo, and laid him flat on his back to give Elrond plenty of room to work.

As Aragorn and Elrond finished preparing, Arwen sat on the bed next to Frodo, both to provide comfort to Frodo and keep Sam from seeing what was to be done. Sam paled as the time approached, but he stubbornly remained by Frodo's side. Frodo himself, when not in the painful throes of labor, remained still and calm though his mind and stomach were churning with anxiety.

Elrond smeared a cool ointment over the lower half of Frodo's abdomen; at first it tingled a bit, then gave way to blessed numbness. He felt for the baby's location once more, then picked up his knife and carefully made a small incision just below where he felt the head.

Frodo could not feel the prick of the blade, but he did feel the blood begin to trickle over his skin and drip onto his thigh before falling to be absorbed by the towels. He blanched as he tried desperately to think about anything else, but it was as if all his awareness was now focused on the warm drip of blood.

Arwen watched Frodo pale and begin to hyperventilate; she placed a warm hand on his face and turned it toward her. "Frodo? Frodo, come back to me." His eyes focused on her from their distant stare and she smiled approvingly. "There. That's better. Now, I believe Sam has a story for you." She nodded to Sam as Frodo's eyes flicked from her face to his.

Sam began a bit tremulously at first, but grew more confident as he continued to speak. "I don' think I told you what Mistress Lobelia did while we were gone..."

When both halflings were absorbed in the tale, Arwen nodded back at her father, and met her husband's eyes with a brief smile before turning back to the hobbits. Elrond continued at Arwen's signal, gently slicing open the thin membrane that remained the only barrier between the babe and the outside. Laying aside his knife, he gestured Aragorn closer as he carefully eased the child's head out of its cocoon. The rest of the body slid out easily after the head, and Elrond soon held a tiny baby girl in his hands. Aragorn held forth a warmed towel and Elrond placed the girl into its embrace. As the nourishing cord was tied off and cut, Aragorn wiped the babe's face and cleaned out her mouth; turning her over slightly, he gently smacked her and she uttered a wail of protest, drawing her first breath.

Sam abruptly ceased his story upon hearing the child's cry, and a slow smile crept across Frodo's face.

Arwen squeezed Frodo's hand as she assured him with a smile of her own, "Almost done, Frodo. Just a little while more and you can hold your baby."

He nodded in understanding, too enraptured with his child's newfound voice to speak.  
Elrond used Frodo's distraction and took a moment to consider his next step. Somehow, the small organ present in mortals but without known function had been used to house and nourish the child. Elrond decided it would be best to simply remove the organ, since a stitched incision would likely only invite infection to a very susceptible area for such an ailment. He placed the organ and the rest of the birthing tissues into a basin, which Aragorn quickly covered and moved to the side, all the while cradling the baby girl in one arm.

It did not take long for Elrond to meticulously stitch up the incision he had made and bathe the area with warm water before applying a cream to the wound to aid healing and bandaging it. Frodo remained still, and though he could feel the tug and pull of the last few stitches, any slight pain was overwhelmed in his sudden need for sleep. He fought the downward pull of his eyelids, but his exhaustion was winning.

Arwen observed his struggle to stay awake, so she again caressed his face gently and said, "Wake up, Frodo. Don't you want to see your baby?" Frodo felt some of her energy flowing into him and he pulled his eyes open again. "Now I'll help you sit up a bit... Sam, would you put a few pillows behind him?" Arwen directed as she put an arm behind Frodo's shoulders and eased him slightly upward.

Elrond and Aragorn had cleared away the mess of the surgery and attended to the soiled linens; no trace remained of what had been performed only minutes before. Aragorn had carefully washed the baby while Elrond finished the stitching, and now held the cooing infant wrapped snugly in another warmed towel.

Elrond moved to the side of the bed as Arwen helped Frodo sit up; once Frodo was settled in a semi-reclined position, he asked, "How are you feeling?"

Frodo took a moment to speak, trying to find his tongue for normal speech. "Exhausted... and sore," he admitted. "But I want to see the baby before I sleep." He looked beseechingly at Elrond, who permitted himself a small smile.

"Of course," he assured Frodo. "You may hold your baby as soon as you drink this." He gestured with a small mug before bringing it to Frodo's lips. "It will fight infection and help with the pain."

Frodo submitted, wrinkling his nose in distate as he swallowed. When Elrond pulled the cup away and stepped back, Aragorn stepped forward, holding forth the small bundle.

"Congratulations, Frodo," he said, placing the baby into Frodo's open arms. "You have a healthy baby girl."

"A girl..." he whispered in awe as he peered into his child's -*his* child's!- face. Sleepy, unfocused blue eyes blinked at him and the small pink lips opened wide in a yawn. Soft dark fuzz covered her head and slightly overlapped tiny pointed ears. She seemed to realize who now held her, as she uttered no cry of complaint when she changed hands.

Frodo's face was a study in wonder and joy and delight as he held his little girl, reaching up with a gentle finger to trace along the side of her face, then bringing her closer and pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"She's a right comely lass, Mr. Frodo," Sam said. "But what are you going to call her?"

Frodo had to clear his throat before answering. "Primula," he replied softly, "for my mother."


End file.
